


lit like a burning city

by sangi



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-07
Updated: 2010-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-13 15:59:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3387740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sangi/pseuds/sangi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The palace is burning. He will ensure it burns to the ground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lit like a burning city

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in 2010, posted again here for archival purposes.

0\. fire

 

There are always two.

 

One must win, for both cannot be alpha.  
  


* * *

 

 

1\. ozai

 

There is a large golden throne on the platform; it is ornate, with golden dragons curled around the top. The blazing fire around the platform illuminates the shadowy form on the throne. A young boy, black hair in a top knot, watches as an older boy goes quickly through a complicated set of firebending techniques.

 

The dance comes to a close – the performer breathes heavily in and out as he bows deferentially toward the throne. A resounding, echoing applause rings through the room.

 

“Well done, Iroh,” a low, rasping voice says as his claps come to an end. Azulon’s face looms: “You have progressed. You will make… a fine soldier.”

 

Ozai watches contemplatively, not with greed or wonder, but merely watches and observes, as if saying ‘so this is what I must do to gain father’s attention’.

 

Iroh approaches his brother, a satisfied look on his face.

 

Ozai’s smile is more of a smirk as he moves forward. “Congratulations, brother.”

 

* * *

 

  
2\. iroh

 

The starched white of his clothing itches uncomfortably against his skin. It is a welcome distraction from the ceremony that is taking place in front of him. Amber eyes diligently follow the procession as they move closer, carrying torches.

 

It is amazing, he muses, how quickly a body can go up in flames. The Dragon of the West has burnt many, but he has never passively watched. Silence reigns.

 

Tendrils of smoke curl resolutely in the air. Something moves and catches his attention – he moves his eyes over. Azula, his young niece, is staring at him, almost examining him. Her gaze is both probing and familiar. He turns away from it.

 

From his other side, Ozai watches, a small smirk on his face. Ursa’s face is contorted with grief, while Zuko seems simply confused. Large fists at Iroh’s side clench as he notices Azulon’s blank face.

 

Finally, as he the last of the smoke rises into the air and the acrid scent of ash reaches his nose, Ozai walks by Iroh, confident and triumphant; Iroh whispers, “Congratulations, brother.”

 

* * *

 

  
3\. azula

 

_Twist, turn, two short bursts of fire …_ and her routine ends, with her standing with her arms outstretched, like a phoenix, making an effort to breathe softly.

 

In front of her, there is the throne. Behind her, there is her brother. She smiles mentally with the thought, holding her pose for several moments, and then bowing reverentially to the gold-crested throne where her judge is watching.

 

Ozai claps as his daughter rises from her bow. “Your performance was exquisite, daughter. You are quite proficient in the firebending arts,” he praises, raising an eyebrow at the presence of his older child at the back of the room, simply watching, as he once had.

 

He smiles.

 

On the other side of the ring of fire, Azula smiles also, bows again and turns to leave. As she passes Zuko, she sees the gold flecks in his eyes.

 

He admits grudgingly, “Congratulations, sister.”

 

* * *

 

  
4\. zuko

 

The palace is burning.

 

The smell is caustic and he can taste the ash and the blood. His swords are stained with both. The mask covering his face guarantees that little gets through, but the sense of death is in the air.

 

They have won the battle, but much has been lost. Somewhere in the city is the Avatar, alive, but broken. His comrades, one less than before, and the waterbenders, severely lacking in numbers. And there is Iroh… Iroh and his lost memories, Iroh and his lost son.

 

Zuko’s hands clench on his twin blades, before putting them back into their sheath. The battle is not yet won.

 

Two funeral pyres stand not far from him, with poles upright, where two prisoners are crucified. Behind him there are loyal soldiers, witnesses to this crime, to this execution. He moves forward to the first pile of wood.

 

“Hello, son.” His father greets him with the smile of man with secret knowledge.

 

“I am not your son,” Zuko says lowly. “I have never been your son.”

 

Ozai laughs loudly, the sound echoing throughout the courtyard, as he throws his head back, seemingly not noticing as it bumps the wooden pole. “You and I, Zuko, we are more alike than you could ever imagine.”

 

Zuko snaps his fingers and the wood goes up in flames. _For Iroh,_ his conscious says. _For Lu Ten,_ another part of him whispers.

 

He moves on to the next pyre. Azula is watching calmly as her father’s body turns to ash, blowing away in the wind. Zuko waits until her gaze moves to him.

 

“Father told me to watch out for you,” she says, amber eyes locked intensely onto his. He can see the enmity in them. “He said you were stronger than I gave you credit for.” The once-would-be-ruler sneers. “It seems he was right.”

 

She smiles cruelly. “Congratulations, brother.”

 

Her body is burning as quick as his fathers, and she makes not a sound, simply watching until she passes out. It is amazing, he muses, how quickly a body can go up in flames.

 

The palace is burning. He will ensure it burns to the ground.


End file.
